


Hot

by bakedgoldfish



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-21
Updated: 2003-02-21
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: Heat affects people.





	Hot

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Hot**

**by:** Baked Goldfish 

**Category:** Fluff, rambles into Leo/Margaret-ness at the end  
**Rating:** YTEEN for a little innuendo  
**Summary:** Heat affects people.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine in the least.  Please don't sue me.  


CJ wiped the sweat from her upper lip, and blinked the salty moisture from her eyes.  The sun was glaring in from the open windows, the light bouncing off her computer screen and onto her face.  She saw Gail in her fishbowl, flitting around the seemingly cool water, and she thought of a swimming pool. 

She glared at the fish.  "I hate you," she muttered to Gail; Gail, for her part, burbled merrily on, swimming in and out of the fake rock formation that sat off-center in her bowl. 

"Just can't catch a break, can I," Josh said, bracing himself against her open doorway. 

"I wasn't talking to you," she sighed, moving a pile of papers from one spot on her desk to another.  "What do you need?" 

He shrugged, looking around.  "Your office is cooler than mine." 

"Your office must be sweltering then," CJ said, taking her glasses off to look at him. 

"Yeah, I was about to walk around topless but Donna made me put my shirt back on," he said.  "So now I'm here." 

She glared at him.  "Get out." 

"But-" 

"You're gonna bring your stupid hot body heat and mess up my exorbitant lack of cool," she snarled. 

He grinned at her.  "I'm sorry, did you just say I have a hot body?" 

"Out!" 

"I'm gonna go see if Sam has a cooler office," he muttered, leaving. 

"Call me if he does!" she hollered after him. 

"Yeah," he yelled back, sauntering down the hall.  Sam's door was open, like all the other doors in the area; it was the middle of April, it was ninety-two degrees out, and the air conditioning wasn't turned on, so all the staffers had their doors and windows open to better circulate the air.  Josh knocked on the doorframe.  "Hey." 

Sam looked up from his laptop.  "Hey, what's up?" he chirped, smiling. 

Josh took in Sam's appearance: his white shirt still looked starched, crisp, and clean, his skin was oddly healthy looking, and his hair was still perfectly in place.  "You suck," Josh said. 

His smile ran away.  "Uh - okay." 

"No, you - how come you're not, like, sticky?" 

Sam regarded him with a bit of wariness.  "I'm not quite sure what you mean by that." 

"Never mind," Josh mumbled, running his hands through his somewhat bouncy hair.  "I was just looking for an office that was cooler than mine, is all." 

"It's not the heat," Sam said absently, typing away on his laptop. 

"Huh?  It's ninety-two degrees-" 

"Yeah, but it's the humidity that makes it bad." 

"Why is that, anyway?" Josh asked.  "Why's it so humid?" 

"DC used to be a swamp," Sam answered. 

"Yeah, but it used to be a swamp.  It isn't anymore.  So why's it still humid?" 

Sam blinked, slightly confused.  "I'm not sure." 

Josh looked around, a scowl on his face.  "I wish they would just turn on the damn AC." 

"They can't until May." 

"They can make an exception.  It's hell in here." 

"Yeah, but it's for environmental reasons," Sam said. 

Josh mulled it over for a moment.  "Democrats aren't allowed to say 'screw the environment,' right?" 

"Don't think so, no." 

"'Kay."  He tapped the top of the doorframe and said, "I'm gonna go find a cooler place to hang out in." 

"Sure," Sam said, already back to work.  "I've just got this thing to finish up ... "  He heard a thump against his wall, followed a moment later by another.  "It's almost done," he yelled, sending the document to the printer. 

"It's not about that," Toby yelled back.  Sam poked his head in, and Toby put his ball away. 

"You could've just walked over," Sam said. 

"It's more fun to annoy," Toby replied.  "Besides, I want you to see something."  He stood up, and displayed his shirt and tie.  "Does this look okay?" 

Sam stared at him, puzzled.  "Why are you asking me for fashion advice?" 

"You, you look like the kind of guy," Toby mumbled, motioning at Sam's crisp clothes.  "You're a fashionable guy." 

Self-consciously, Sam smoothed the front of his shirt.  "Thanks," he said, beginning to smile. 

Toby noticed those beginnings.  "You're also a freakish gym bunny." 

Sam's smile dropped.  "A gym bunny?" 

"Yeah." 

"Well, sure," Sam began.  "Which just means that, when I'm old and gray like you, people will still be hitting on me."  He raised a smug eyebrow as Toby scowled at him. 

"Is this okay?" Toby asked again, his voice dropping to a near-growl. 

"It's fine.  What's it for?" 

"I have to look presentable." 

"Presentable?  What for?" 

"Somebody hit on me." 

Sam blinked.  "Oh." 

"So.  You know."  He motioned at his hair and said, "You should be so lucky to be like me when you're old and gray." 

Sam stared at him for a moment.  "Who hit on you?" 

"Does it really matter?  I'm getting more play than you." 

His shoulders slumping a bit, Sam quirked his head to one side.  "That just seems so very wrong." 

"Old and gray, Sam," Toby advised, easing back into his chair. 

Donna came in.  "Josh needs you to look this over," she said, handing a folder to Toby.  "Hey, Sam." 

"I've got some gray," Sam defended. 

"Where?" Toby challenged. 

"My temples."  He pointed to the little bits of silver. 

Donna glanced at the two of them.  "Your temples don't count," she said. 

Sam stared at her, indignant.  "Why not?" 

"You dye them," she replied, mockingly chipper.  "They don't count because they're not really gray." 

"You dye your temples?" Toby asked, flummoxed. 

Sam touched his temples self-consciously.  "I - might.  Not that it matters."  Donna and Toby stared at him.  "I, yes, yes I dye them.  What?" 

Toby rolled his eyes.  "Thank you, Donna.  Sam, listen, just get that speech to the President, all right?" 

"I'm going there now," Donna volunteered. 

"I should go over there myself," Sam indignantly began, "just because you gave my secret away." 

"You mean for spite?" Donna asked. 

"Yes." 

"So, you mean you'd do more work, in order to spite me?" 

"I - wait."  Sam stared at her, confused. 

Toby cleared his throat.  "Excuse me, but it is getting increasingly hot in here.  Could one of you just do something?" 

Donna went over to the printer and plucked the sheets from the tray.  "Is this the speech?" 

"Yes," Toby said.  "Please go." 

"You're welcome," she muttered, grabbing a folder on her way out. 

The moment she reached Charlie's desk, she was nearly bowled over by a cold blast of air.  When she recovered, she shielded her eyes from the wind and peered in the direction of the blast.  "Holy Christ, what is that?" 

Charlie calmly kept working.  "It's a fan." 

"That's not a fan, that's - hellish." 

He quirked an eyebrow and regarded her with amusement.  "It's not that hellish, actually." 

She stared at the ominous, bulky, steel-gray floor fan as it groaned out a low hum; it creaked slightly, randomly, and she jumped.  "Seriously, is that thing possessed?" 

"It's a fan," Charlie repeated, slightly more exasperated.  "It keeps things cool." 

"It keeps things Satanic," she retorted.  Trying to ignore the floor fan, she handed the speech to Charlie.  "It's the speech for the morning." 

"Thanks," he said, getting up to take it to the President as Donna left.  

He knocked, got no answer, and went inside.  He stopped short at the sight of the President with his ear to Leo's door.  "Uh - sir?" 

"Shh!" Bartlet snapped, holding a finger to his mouth.  Standing up and seeing it was Charlie, he said, "Put that folder down and c'mere!" 

Hesitantly, Charlie dropped the folder onto the President's desk.  "Sir, what-" 

"Listen to this," Bartlet interrupted, pointing at the door. 

Regarding the President with a certain degree of worry, Charlie put his ear to the door.  On the other side, he heard the low voices of Leo and Margaret, the ruffling of cloth, and- 

"Giggling?" he muttered, half to himself.  "Why are they-" 

"Shh!"  His face masked in concentration, Bartlet pushed his ear even closer to the door, straining to make out the words they were saying.  "Oh, forget this," he muttered, standing up straight and opening the door. 

Leo and Margaret bolted up from the couch they'd been sitting on.  Staring at the President like deer caught in the headlights, Leo fixed his collar and Margaret adjusted the shoulder straps to her dress.  "Sir," Leo greeted somberly. 

"You skipped a button," Bartlet began, pointing at Leo's collar.  As Leo re-buttoned the top of his shirt, the President asked, "The heat getting to ya?" 

"Er - it's a little-"  Leo shrugged helplessly.  "It's a little warm." 

"When Leo McGarry's not wearing a tie or jacket, you know it's more than just a little warm," Bartlet murmured to Charlie.  Back to Leo and Margaret, he asked, "You guys wanna keep the doors open between the offices?" 

"No," the two answered, quickly and simultaneously before glancing nervously at each other. 

Bartlet raised an eyebrow as Charlie suppressed a chuckle.  "Perhaps you two should find some way to cool off, then," he said, his lips quirking up as the two began to blush. 

"There's the old storage room in the basement," Charlie piped up.  "It's pretty cool there.  And, you know, quiet." 

Bartlet nodded in eager agreement.  "Yeah, it's secluded, too.  Abbey and I - well, you could get some work done in peace down there." 

"I'll take the laptop," Margaret offered, scurrying around to pack the laptop bag. 

"I'll take-"  Leo glanced around before grabbing a random briefing book.  "This." 

"Charlie," Bartlet said, and Charlie took both the laptop and the briefing book away.  Glancing at his watch, Bartlet added, "It's lunchtime anyway, right?" 

"Sure," Margaret said, grabbing Leo by the elbow and yanking him out the door before the President could change his mind. 

Charlie waited a moment after Leo and Margaret left before saying, "You know, I didn't even know those two were.  You know.  A thing." 

"Yeah, I didn't know either until just now, when I kinda overheard some things," Bartlet replied, shoving his hands into his pockets and absently staring at the door that Leo and Margaret had left through. 

"You're certainly taking it well, sir." 

"Well, whatever makes 'em happy, I guess.  Though, he coulda told me." 

"And she coulda told me," Charlie added, regarding the same door Bartlet was. 

"Yeah."  Suddenly, confusion clouded the President's features, and he turned to face Charlie.  "Say, Charlie?" 

"Yes sir?" 

"How'd you know about the old storage room?" 

Charlie averted his eyes. 

-end- 


End file.
